Soulmate! Where are you!
by spotdot
Summary: Soulmate alternate universe where you hear the other person's voice in your head, guiding you to where they are like a GPS. Except they would make the most ridiculous comments when you made a wrong turning-which Marco does a lot.
1. Chapter 1

As a person with a phlegmatic temperament, people never really bother me.

So it takes someone special, someone very, very special, to drive me up the wall so far that I go out of my own way to physically track them down.

It really wasn't as easy to do that as I first thought.

When I was thirteen, I went on a shopping trip to Trost with my mum and dad. Why? Because they wanted to be spontaneous. I just wished they'd been "spontaneous" closer to home, a small town called Jinae, so that I wouldn't have to suffer the two hour long drive home where I made faces at the cars going by when my parents weren't looking. As much fun as that was, I would have preferred to write stories in my notebook or play football with my friends in the park.

I ended up trudging behind them while they dived into shops of all kinds in the large shopping centre, maintaining at least a three feet distance between me and them. Because at thirteen years old, it didn't matter where you were and if no-one knew who you were; you just didn't want anyone to see you with your parents. It was a bit obvious, though, that they were my parents, considering I had my mum's soot black hair and my dad's freckles.

I stayed outside a particularly girly looking shop with flowers on the sign and looked at the comedy sketch through the window. My mum was showing my dad some ridiculous floral dress in the middle of the tiled shop floor while he nodded at it enthusiastically, probably telling her it'd look amazing on her. Of course it would; that woman could pull off floral any day. She was the kind of nice, nurturing mum that you'd expect to find in floral clothes and with her hair in a bun-which it was. Clothes like that were basically "mum brand" clothes worldwide. While I was watching them potter around the shop, both with sickeningly lovesick gazes aimed towards each other, and not really thinking about anything, a truly random thought came into my mind:

"Three miles to your left, down Trost's main street." I heard a man-a boy?- growl into my ear.

I turned around frantically, expecting to find pervert leering over my shoulder or a grouchy kid on the floor looking up at me with a scowl. Don't panic, I told myself. It was just a prank. Whoever it was, was gone by now; probably spluttering in laughter down some alley at my reaction. My parents come out the shop just then, smiling at me and finally declaring that we go and get something to eat in the next town over. I couldn't have been more thankful for my parents' wanderlust at that moment.

I didn't hear that voice again for the remainder of the trip that day. But it still freaked me out.

It took some will power to confess to my parents what was happening, a few painful years later. I always panicked when I went to Trost for shopping trips, I always heard that odd and irritating but somehow familiar voice giving me the most obscure directions.

"Go around the bend, if I'm not already driving you there." I made sure to avoid that particular corner. Not that I would have went anyway, there were some scary looking thugs lurking there and I didn't exactly plan on making friends with them.

"Turn to the right and zigzag your way into my life. Or just across this insane car park." I ran away from the car park.

"Why did the chicken cross the road? And go down the path? And then down the street on the third left road? Hint; it was to find me."

The raucous, boyish voice that rang in my mind finally caught my conscious attention.

I was supposed to find him?

I waited outside the panelled living room door. Through the small windows, I could see that my parents were sitting inside the dark room on the couch, watching the T.V that lit up their faces and talking to each other during the movie, like they always did. It was really weird how convenient it was that were both so similar like that. Someone who did the same things as you. Something simple like talking during a movie.

I had to build up the nerve before I walked in.

Last time I'd tried to talk to them about something serious-which may or may not have been the odd and uncomfortable curling hairs growing all of a sudden in my arm pit-it had ended with them just laughing it off and telling me that it was "life" and "the beginning of my manhood". I was under the impression that hearing the voices of a strange guy who wanted you to "find" them, maybe stalk them, possibly worship the ground they walked on, wasn't exactly what I'd been taught in circle time during sex education.

And the fact that I actually considered this voice to be another person or another person's probably meant I needed to go to a mental health facility.

I figured "what the hay, it couldn't hurt to be laughed at again-at least not physically-so just get it over with" and pulled the golden handle down to walk inside. My parents were snuggled together on the couch, nestled in a big blanket, and they looked up at me with identical and owlish expressions.

"Oh! Hey, Marco! We were just watching this romantic comedy with Jennifer Anniston in it, do you want to watch it with us? We didn't call you down because we know you're not really into this sort of thing." My mum grinned at me cheerily, and my dad went back to watching the movie. It couldn't hurt…

I sat down beside them, or well, I sat down on the arm of the couch since they took up the entire area of cushions that we had.

"So…"

I began speaking but chickened out. Ugh. I was so going to regret this.

No-je ne regrette rien! Keep going Bodt! Live up to your family name (that doesn't exactly have any ancestors worth mentioning)!

"I hear voices in my head, or no, wait, it's just one voice. A guy's. Whenever I'm in Trost I always hear his voice and he gives me directions, that are apparently going to lead me to him." I told them quickly, casually looking at the screen instead of them.

When I peeked over at them, I was not expecting their reaction. I fell on the floor as they both piled onto me.

"MARCO THIS IS AMAZING."

"I'M SUDDENLY VERY HAPPY FOR YOU, SON."

"WHY IS THIS AMAZING AND MAKING YOU HAPPY?!" My voice was muffled under the thick blanket. "And why only suddenly? Shouldn't you always be happy for my well being?"

They rolled around together on the floor excitedly, making "happy" sounds. I really hoped they were, because I was already tempted to phone an ambulance due to their abrupt, seizure-like floor dance. My dad crawled up to me, releasing himself from the cocoon of my mum's blanket, he squeezed my shoulders with big hands and gazed into my eyes with his adoring grey ones.

"That's the voice of your soul mate! It's how your mum and I found each other, quite literally!"

After that incident in the living room, I was shipped to Trost with a small stash of money for a hotel so that I could find this guy. A guy I apparently hadn't made up. A guy who I knew nothing about apart from his sarcasm and impatience:

"I'm pretty sure an atheist would find God before you found me."

Comments like that were usually followed by more directions. But as I would be so lucky; I have absolutely no sense of direction.

Ask me where my house is and I'll point in the opposite direction. I once sent a humble Asian women to the slum estate when she asked to go to the town centre. It took me three months and several, unwilling guides to find my way around my high school- Jinae Academy-and the layout plan was basically just three levels of open space, circled hallways.

I got off the small, grotty bus after two hours and a half, seeing as my parents wanted me to go on a pilgrimage-like expedition like they had "when they were young", ignoring the fact that I had about as much idea as to where I was going as a pigeon. Immediately, I heard the boy's voice, who I guessed was about the same age as me. My soul mate's voice, I reminded myself.

"Go past the shop with the rickety sign," All the shops I saw had lopsided signs because of the wind. "Go down the road in the alley next to it and continue forward for one mile, then…"

It was pointless listening to him if I couldn't even find the first point on the trip I'd been sent to go on. Actually, why didn't he just find me? Why did I have to find him? It would've been a hell load easier.

But, then again, I am quite a nice person. And it never hurts to live up to that trait. I ignored his childish protests ("You're getting colder, COLDer, COLDER-ICE COLD.") when I began to make my way to the cheap hotel my mum had suggested I go to, since her friend worked there and would keep me safe (I was sixteen- I didn't need coddling. Oh well, I'd probably get a discount or something).

I hurriedly signed in, raced up to my room, dumped my bag on the bed and locked the door before running out again. LET THE GAMES BEGIN.

….

OR FAIL.

MISERABILY.

AND SEND ME INTO THE WILDERNESS.

IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT.

WITH MY PHONE'S BATTERY OUT OF CHARGE.

It was bad enough that I had no sense of direction, but now I had to live up to the cliché horror movie scene where the protagonist enters an empty house and gets murdered?

Top tip of survival-stick to the trees. Or just stay put. At least I got that part right (and to think I'd learned it in geography, of all the sources of information).

I sat at the kerb of the road, waiting for someone to drive by so I could hightail a lift back to town.

Nope. Definitely not as easy as I first thought. Stupid, bad-at-giving-directions-soul mate.

It had better be worth it in the end. That was, if I didn't find myself walking into some river because of his atrocious instructing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Aha! I found you!"

I heard a rowdy voice call from somewhere in front of me.

My back was leaning against a thick tree stump and I panicked slightly, having just woken up by the shout. Had I fallen asleep? Where? What? I rubbed my eyes with grazed, muddy fingers while my head ached and throbbed, pounding in time to the footsteps that thudded in the grass towards me. How even..? My head was beginning to hurt even more as the confusion swelled in my skull. I looked up into the dark surroundings to see a figure lingering over me, a boy-a very attractive boy, that is-with a lean body and blonde- or was it brown?-hair. He knelt down onto the tall grass in front of me, grinning cockily with his crooked teeth showing.

"Hell yeah!"

I groaned in pain at the loud noise and from my headache. I was so exhausted, and it was like he was my mom waking me up for school after a hangover. Not that I knew what that felt like. I was underage, after all. (Who lets that stop them? Goodie two shoes Marco B: that's who.)

"Huh? What d'you mean? The heck's going on?" I slurred.

He raised a dark eyebrow, smirking at me like he knew everything about everything. I kinda wanted to reach out and touch his face. Yes, as weird as that sounds. It looked like porcelain in the darkness, with the half moon shining down on his right side. So pretty. But my arm felt dead so I didn't. It might've been weird to do that, if you thought about it. Tiredness didn't really excuse social ineptness, did it? I didn't really feel like trying since I was dead tired, but what an experience that would've been…

"It's because I'm psychic."

"…What is?"

"That I found you. I've been hearing your voice-it's definitely your voice-for ages, years even, telling me where to go whenever you get lost. And even though you seem to get lost so many times, I've never found you, until now."

His smirk was beginning to look more like an excited smile. It was really cute, if I was being honest with myself. It wasn't as if he had to know my thoughts.

"My voice?"

When he said psychic, I thought creepy. Maybe that's putting it a bit harshly; weird, perhaps? His smile lessened the strangeness of what he was saying. So did my headache. That was doing wonders for me, as well as blurring my vision it stopped him from sounding too weird. I frowned at him and scratched my sweaty scalp, shuffling so that my back wasn't on the rough bark, because man did that stuff hurt and my poor back was feeling sensitive. I was pretty sure I could feel more stinging scrapes there, reaching up and down like cat claw marks.

"Yeah, no idea what the hell that's about. But it just means I'm special, so I'll deal." He shrugged, then peered at me, scanning my face, and pressed his palm to my forehead.

I wasn't too tired to flinch from the stranger's touch, delicate as it were, and I felt my face heat up. Hot or not; I wasn't exactly comfortable with him touching me, but he didn't seem to care. His face softened then I stopped minding it. I would've stopped him somehow if he'd looked like a pervert, I would have, but I began to like his casual forwardness. His appearance didn't really seem like the touchy-feely type: pointy jaw, straight nose, permanently narrowed, cat-like eyes and a small, tight lipped mouth. There was his rough voice too; I could easily imagine him scoffing a lot and insulting others. Suddenly he jolted, his eyes-what colour were they? Too dark to see them properly-widened and he took his other hand to my head and combed through my hair , sending shivers down my spine.

"Holy shit man, you're bleeding, like, there's actually a lot of blood. How can you not feel that?!" His voice rose in panic and his face contorted in fear.

OH. Bring this guy to a haunted house; just do it, just do the thing.

"It's fine, it's fine." I batted his hand away, mentally pushing down the giddiness that was crawling around in the pit of my stomach. "Let's see if I can stand. And if not, you're totally carrying me to the hospital."

Maybe I couldn't get away with social ineptness, but flirting, flirting I would always take a chance with. I'm a Gemini; it's what I do best.

"…Excuse me?"

I sleepily returned his smirk from earlier. "My prince charming came to save me, didn't he? I'm certainly the damsel in distress and I…" I looked around the dark forest, frowning a little as the panic rose again-just a bit.

"Yeah, I don't even know how I got out here."

I childishly reached out my arms for him to help me up, snorting with laughter as he glared down at me. At that moment in time, we were in the middle of a forest, there might have been a road a few meters away and…

Forest of where exactly…? Something wasn't right here…

But I didn't get to figure out what wasn't right, because just then I attempted to stand up on the dry grass. Blacking out during the activity didn't help much. You know, unconsciousness tends to interfere with the thought process, and so on.

Some time later I woke up to the putrid smell of my grandma's house in the city. No, actually, the hospital. (Of course, duh.) The white sheets I lay on and walls helped me figure that out, aside from the smell. Not to mention the freaking scary doctor hovering over me that I quickly leaned away from with my heart lurching; he was wearing scrubs and had a stethoscope around his neck. Very doctor-like, I have to say.

What wasn't very doctor-ish about him was that he was staring me down passionately and I was thinking, hey, that's not really your job, get your torch thing to do the eye test or whatever or at least ask me out before you go about looking into my eyes like that; it's called courtesy.

Speaking of which-I knew that the person next to him had a large lack of said trait and took a look at him. I bet they would've gotten along well, that black haired doctor and him. The hot, definitely blonde and brown haired guy with an undercut. Who was apparently psychic. Okay, so hot and crazy-ooh his eyes were a honey color; awesome. I could deal with that. He'd totally carried me to the hospital. His arms were pretty thick and muscled with the vein thing sticking out a bit, despite his lean figure. How lovely. (Oh yeah~.*Highfive*)

After reassuring myself that the intense dude with white overalls really was a doctor (I sure hoped so anyway) I loosened up my stiffened shoulders and lay back down on the bed which creaked under my weight, gazing back at menacing grey orbs that were almost hidden beneath heavy eyelids. What an amazing view I had down there on that bed. Would you look at that; he trimmed his nose hairs daily, I could tell. How nice of him to take care of himself like that. I bet he used deodorant spray too-the quality kind.

"Hey there." I nodded slowly at him.

Was I on drugs? My voice sounded thick and sleepy. In fact, I was pretty sleepy. Sleep sounded amazing right around now; although I had probably just woken up. You know, being in a bed and all. I did remember that I'd passed out for some reason or other. Oh yeah, blood, there had been blood on my head. I did not consider touching y head at that moment. I would mot definitely scream like a… A banshee. Yeah. Banshee. They scream lots, don't they?

His accented voice was old sounding in contrast to his young appearance. "You're awake. Good. Where's your insurance?"

Ah yes: the joy of amazingly caring doctors. Clean you up right away-after you give them money in some shape or form. Then send you off home; that's their favourite part.

"I have no idea." I smiled up at him with my eyes half open as I slurred my speech. "In fact, I don't know where I am. Care to tell?"

His black eyebrows furrowed-even more than they had before, and that was probably just his normal face-and the hot psychic dude sitting in a seat beside him shifted uncomfortably.

"Brilliant. That's just what we need. Where'd you say you found him?" He continued staring at me while talking to HPD.

"Uh, just outside of Trost, in the woods." The doctor turned and glared at him.

"What the hell where you doing out there this late at night?"

"…I wanted to go for a walk. Felt like going to the woods. Nothing much to it, really." He shrugged his shoulders, cowering under piercing grey eyes but trying to hide his fear as he looked away, towards me. Such nice eyes…

"So that's where you are: Trost. This is Trost hospital, if you haven't figured that out. My name's Jean. And I don't know who this dude is."

He flicked a thumb at the doctor as he spoke, smiling at me. It seemed like he really liked showing his teeth. Gotta love a toothy smile (or so the toothpaste adverts say). And boy, what a smile it was.

So… Trost. Trost, Trost, Trost. Me and my parents went there for shopping trips sometimes. I didn't really like Trost, that was the impression I had from what I remembered, which wasn't much to go on. Uh, and um, that's about it really.

"I don't know why I'm in Trost."

The doctor scanned my face with his eyes narrowed. "This isn't a movie."

I tore my eyes from Jean's. "I'm aware of that, I think."

"So you really don't remember why you're here?"

Ah, the classic case of:

"Amnesia? Are you serious?" he hurled his clipboard onto the bed at my feet and bared his teeth. "We have to deal with you guys whether you've got insurance or not. Fuck. I really don't like you. This is going out of my pay check and you're not even paying me via government."

HPD, who was also known as Jean, but I quite liked my nickname for him since it fitted so perfectly, gave me a sly thumbs up as the doctor sighed and rubbed his temples with one hand. Because what's better than screwing the government over? Plus: tax revenge. I didn't pay it: but that wasn't to say I didn't give a damn.

I honestly didn't know what the hell was going on, but I was pretty sure I could live with it. Bring it on!

Or, you know.

Have "it" leave me with a fair amount of debt and an angry letter, explaining to my parents what had happened, and a detailed description of what an idiot I was and how I had short term amnesia. I couldn't seem to remember the last three years and obviously, I had no idea why.

I got an early discharge. Yeah, evidently it didn't exactly help that my dad was a well known doctor in Trost, as I was told that with a scowl by Dr. Levi. He was a disliked doctor, because he was "too nice" apparently. Translate that as being too good with women, even though he was married to my mom, and he always got some of the best work to do. Jinae may be fairly small but my dad had skills, as in: he had SKILLZ.

I didn't have my phone, since it was out of charge-I had no idea where any stuff I must've had with me had gone to, so no charger, zilch money, nowhere to go, no way to get home; nothing at all-and that phone was my only life-line to my dad and mum's phone number (which I had never made a point of remembering).

So I had to have a mighty fine field trip to… Guess where?

"Hey mum," Jean said as we walked though the red door of the detached house in the earliest hours of the cold morning; me with my newly bandaged and now, thankfully, bloodless head and Jean with his spare keys clinking in his long fingers.

"I'm home."


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Levi said to stay hydrated, and that I should have something a little sugary since I had lost a bit-more than it looked like, he said- of blood and because my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I was considering milking the situation and asking Jean to hold my hand. I'm not really sure what prevented me from doing so. Honestly I was so pumped up on drugs that I could barely feel my fingers or my feet as we walked out the hospital room.

I'm pretty sure Dr. Levi didn't mean for me to have some sort of blue canned energy drink from the hospital vending machine that had me up all night with a headache.

They were energy drinks that actually meant business. It was a busy business that included lots of Caffeine and Taurine. That wasn't what he meant, but it wasn't as if they were dishing out water. Plus; energy drinks had sugar. Two birds with one stone. Not that I would hurt a bird. I like birds. Geez, I think those drugs and drink were doing a number on me.

Up all night _where_, you ask?

In Jean's bed.

That's right. I SLEPT WITH A GUY.

Platonically.

But he was super cute to watch in my slight restless state with his furrowed brow and his lips twitching in a snarl, so that was fine by me. Plus, I'm Mr. Innocent, so I'm not exactly the kind of guy at sixteen years old who would bang a stranger. I mean, I wanted to, libido is a thing, you know. But "making love" was the sort of thing that *couples* did. And we're back to that circle time session of sex ed. Fun, fun times. They were painfully awkward times; since being taught with an old, stern faced teacher that made it impossible not to laugh.

Aaanyway, Jean had taken me to his home, albeit in the middle of the night, and his mother was naturally worried. Just ever, so, slightly…

"JEAN-BO WHO IS THIS BOY THAT YOU'RE BRININGING INTO MY HOUSE." I received a mother's death glare and HPD got the shaking of his life as soon as the red front door opened to reveal a plump woman that looked to be in her thirties. I will not guess her age for the sake of her pride. That is the Bodt way of life.

My mum was the pretty and sweet type of mum, and this woman seemed to be the "I will never let my baby grow up" kind of mum. I could just tell Jean loved the babying type of parent… Not.

"He's a friend! Leave him be!"

Current status: friends with HPD. This was news to me, and some that I liked hearing the sound of.

"Geez. He got whacked off the head somehow. He probably climbed a tree or something and had to go to hospital. Back off mum. Stop embarrassing me!" he protested, pushing at her mollycoddling hands as they smoothed down his rumpled t-shirt and his hair.

"HI I'M MARCO SORRY TO INTRUDE. MIND IF I CRASH HERE SINCE I DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM?"

Their mothering to death scene was paused in a freeze frame as they both turned to look at me.

"DRUGS AND ENERGY DRINK AREN'T THE BEST MIX FOR ME, SORRY IF I'M A BITTY LOUD."

Bitty. I said bitty. I needed sleep. I needed to sink into the floor like the idiot I was. I gave a quieter, shaky laugh, looking anxiously at an irritated Jean who tugged me upstairs.

I never did sleep that night. When I saw the morning sun through the thin, pale curtains I had absolutely had it with my boredom. As entertaining as a snoozing Jean was, I needed something to do. I took his phone off the white bedside cabinet-he'd said I could use it, don't worry-and took a selfie with my tongue sticking out. It was just to let the HPD remember me from here on out. I may have saved it as his desktop picture.

Then I went online and looked up amnesia, how ironic: I remembered to do so. Ha. Ha. I think the drugs had worn off by that point. The drink was probably what was keeping me up.

As it turns out, I had had amnesia for longer than I realized. Sure, I had hit my head, god knows how, and that caused some brain damage, leading to the amnesia. But Google told me that things like disorientation-the incapability to get ones bearings-were one of the symptoms.

And guess who gets lost easily, and all the time.

Me.

I had probably been dropped as baby and no-one had the heart to tell me. It all made sense now. But knowing that I should probably go to a doctor again did nothing to prepare me for what Jean did next.

While sleeping beside me on his cozy double bed, he stole the blankets, cuddling them, and hooked a leg over my own, almost pining me to the bed and leaving me cold. The heating was off. That bastard. He slept on the side of his face, his cheek snuggling into the dark covers he hoarded and also into my left side. All I could do was become all gooey eyed and coo at him like a mother watching their child attempt to form words. Not that I myself could form words. Anything I said at that moment in time would have dissolved into the mattress in a fit of giggles and start a long round of "aww"-ing until he woke up and saw my staring. Back away Bodt, just back away…

With a content sigh, I reached over with one hand and caressed his cheek. I could totally get away with things like this when he was asleep. Social ineptness, headache and tiredness be damned. At least he seemed to be asleep, because he didn't stir much and wow was his skin soft. Like, dude, lend me your moisturizer, have no shame whatsoever in your beautifully clear and supple skin.

I looked back at the glare of the phone, squinting at the bright light as I pondered over what to do next.

OH. I had an idea, a clever idea.

Jinae may have been a small town, but its hospital took pride in having a website. A well maintained website, I might add, with notices of new children, posts celebrating the lives of the ones sadly lost and funny goings-on between the staff members, sometimes the patients too.

If only the news could be like that. Telling me that someone had died, as bad as it might sound, it didn't make me care for them as if I'd known them. I did care though, as the son of a doctor and as myself, I really did care.

Best of all: the website had contact details!

Sometime later, after many reassurances that "Yes, I am Mr. Bodt's son, no I'm not going to hold him for ransom-why would I do that?" I found myself on the line with my dad's mobile.

"Is that you Marco?" I heard his voice crack from sleep.

"It is. I have something to read to you, wait a second-"

I reached onto the floor, where I'd stashed my now crumpled letter. I coughed to begin.

"Dear Mr. Bodt and Mrs. Bodt, I am sorry to inform you that your son has received a blow to the head for unknown reasons and cannot be treated due to lack of insurance and identification.' Wait, there's more dad.

'As has been seen from a few head scans, he seems to have no internal bleeding, but unfortunately he seems to have suffered a case of short term amnesia. Either that; or the brat thought it'd be really "effing" funny to play a prank of the doctor. Signed, Doctor Levi. Kiss, kiss, hug. Oh, and he says we owe him money. And we may also need to get him coffee because we kept him up late when he wasn't being paid."

I let my dad process the information, and he chuckled so as not to wake my snoring mum beside him in their bed.

"Only you, eh Marco?"

"Well, I'm sure other people get amnesia from time to time…"

"Yeah but to think you were going out to find your soul mate, only to forget what you were doing!"

"What…?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I'm going to guess whoever found you must be your soul mate, he must've sensed you were in pain and found the right direction before you did."

"WHAT? What do you mean soulmate?!" I shouted in a whisper.

HPD was my freaking SOULMATE WHAT THE HECK?!

"I could be wrong you know, but that's most likely what's happened. Oh, where are you right now?"

"… I'm at a guy's house. He found me and took me in."

"Way to go-!"

"Dad!"

"Okay, okay, seeing as I didn't recognize this number, you're using his phone?"

I glanced over at the sleeping figure, still with a warm leg wrapped around my body and smiled. "Yeah, he let me. He's sleeping though."

"Okay, you had a hotel room booked Marco, and considering that we owe Trost hospital a small sum, apparently, I would recommend getting- Oh no, wait, I have an idea."

"Um, I'm not sure if I like the sound of this."

My dad's ideas weren't always the…most practical, to say it lightly.

"So, here it is: get booked out of that hotel, say to your soul mate's family that your family is away on holiday, and you uh… got kicked out of the hotel because of your fees that they didn't want to be sued for-just make something up for being unable to stay at that hotel- and…yeah. Have fun staying at your soul mate's house for a while."

I swear to god this man… Leaving me out in the wilderness of Trost city… I'd be dead by next week.

"By the way since you probably don't remember, the hotel is called Havenden Hotel, it's by the flower shop beside the water fountain uptown." Ah…yeah... Because I totally knew where that was…

"There are times when I love you, and this is not one of those times."

"I'm flattered, Marco. Now get some sleep, we aren't in different time zones. It's not even dawn yet." He yawned into the microphone.

"I haven't slept all night. I'm riding a sugar rush."

"… Is that the only thing you've ridden?"

"DAD!"

He chuckled, leaving me with a pang of homesickness for our cozy home in Jinae, a whole two hours away from here…

"I'll see you soon then, bye~" he cheerily hung up on me.

Putting the phone back onto the bedside cabinet, I wandered over to the window with a confident stride. Yes, a Bodt could be sly at times. Devious, even. I drew back the curtains, preparing for an undetermined amount of time with Jean by my side… My soul mate…

I'm not really sure how that worked, but I trusted my dad to be honest. I could probably ask him about it again at some point anyway. I pulled open the grey curtains onto an equally grey and dismal sky. Awesome.

"Ah," I sighed as the huddle on the bed called Jean groaned at the intrusion of light on his sleep. "What a beautiful day!" I said in my best English accent.

Soulmate… So that meant Jean was my other half? My fated partner? I grinned at him, hopping back into his bed with a bounce that made the metal creak beneath me. Now this could be interesting…


	4. Chapter 4

When Jean and I went downstairs, I wasn't expecting to feel so downright _attacked. _I mean, I could understand that I wasn't exactly a welcome visitor, what with the "Hi I'm just going to intrude on your cosy little home and go my merry way around your house". But still. I sat at the kitchen table, staring down awkwardly at the chestnut coloured wood and tried to make myself small because it was better than being given the stink eye...

They did have a really nice house though; it was clean and quite big, but not obnoxiously so. I think I may have spied some baby pictures on the windowsill hiding behind a pair of yellow curtains. Mental note: investigate that scene later.

Jean helped his mum find bowls for our cereal and continued to sigh as his mum's behaviour, which included glaring at me at any given opportunity. Dad wanted me to stay...here?

"Mum," Jean snapped. "I said, leave him be, didn't I? You're scaring him."

His mum might've had a son complex, but clearly he didn't fancy being a mamma's boy. She snorted a laugh, smoothing out the front of her beige dress and shooed him away, telling him he wanted to talk to me. He grumbled, carrying his bowl as he walked out and into the living room. I sheepishly glanced up at her, almost certain that she'd leap onto me as soon as he left the room.

Just as the ash coloured door closed and the T.V in the living room began to blare noise, his mum leaned against the counter next to the sink. I looked at it, eyeing up the bowl of cereal that I seriously hoped was for me. She didn't say anything, to my surprise. I didn't either, which is just as surprising. The only thing that broke the silence was the cuckoo clock on the wall that I didn't even know existed anymore. Maybe they existed in old Disney movies, but not in real life. The ticking sounded like a pencil being hit off the side of my head, and it certainly wasn't doing my insomnia induced headache a favour.

"Marco was it?" she said softly. I remembered my introduction... Ah yes, what a way to make a brilliant first impression, on your soul mate's family, no less.

I gave her a small smile while she looked me up and down. "That's right."

She paused for a few moments, perhaps glad or wondering why I wasn't shouting excitedly at her, before speaking up again while moving to sit opposite at the table.

"Last night, jean just dashed out of the house, saying something about "finding him" and "hearing his voice. So really, I wasn't honestly expecting someone to show up on my doorstep, with my son running around and getting you tablets and bandages." She grimaced slightly. "Not to mention, it was pretty late, and you were quite the wake-up call..." First impressions last, it seems...

Was she apologising? It sounded like she was excusing herself for glaring at me and getting worked up last night, demanding to know who I was and what I was doing with her son, and shouldn't Jean know better than to bring strangers home? Apparently not. Either way, I chuckled.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'm never allowed energy drinks ever again, apparently." I tilted my head, scratching at my sweaty scalp. "Did you know he thinks he's psychic?"

"Well, yes, I would know, seeing as I told him that he was."

"...Huh?"

From what I'd seen from his cocky attitude, I'd assumed Jean had just given himself a label to explain the voices. My voice, he said he heard my voice...He had been for years... (Creepy) I kind of wanted to laugh; his mum was just as crazy as him. Perfect, just bloody perfect...

"You know...there's a myth that says that fated ones are connected by the red string of fate. Since you hear each other's voices, it's a bit like that, and you find each other by hearing the directions leading to them."

"I haven't heard his voice."

She raised an eyebrow. "You also have amnesia, so you've probably forgotten that you heard it."

Amnesia.

Amonamonesia.

That I did have.

"Okay...If you say so. When did you find Jean's dad then?" I hadn't heard from him at all since I'd come here.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, no, Jean's father wasn't my soul mate. I did hear his voice though, in this city, but I never found him. There were other though, that found theirs, and they explained that I wasn't crazy. That's actually why I let Jean out, when he said he had to find you. I didn't want him to miss out on a chance like that." She winced at the thought.

"Well then, why tell him that he was psychic? Couldn't you tell him what you told me about the myth or whatever?" My stomach growled, but nobody paid attention to it. Poor baby. Take a hint, Jean's mum. The cereal _had_ to be soggy by now...

She waved her hand in a gesture, as though she was swatting away the idea. "Oh, that boy wouldn't believe in such gush." And I did? Wow, thanks, lady. "Ever since my messy break up with his father, he's been bitter about relationships, never-mind true love."

There was a heavy lump forming in the back of my throat. True love. That was _heavy_, a _really_ heavy expectation for her to have of me... I barely even knew the guy, even if I was a bit attracted to him. He did look like the type to be bitter, to hold onto grudges way past their sell-by date and still be grumpy about it. And there was something off about him when he was with me, as though he was being reasonably friendly, but still really guarded, like he was being really careful about what he said.

Maybe she meant he was bitter about _all kinds_ of relationships.

She stood up and trudged over to the counter and waddled back to give me my bowl. Without saying another word, I dived into the bland flavour, before she could take it from me (I was STARVING).

Before she called Jean back into the room, I told her "I'll try explaining it to him, when he's ready. I might need to be able to remember hearing his voice though, just so he doesn't think I'm bluffing." And I also didn't want him to try to get together with the wrong person...

A short while later, Jean and I were outside in Trost's streets, with me wearing his clothes, since mine stank and were covered in mud. He'd insisted in taking me to the hotel since I was a) sick and b) completely clueless about the town and where to go. I thought, hey; that's pretty nice of him, but then I remembered: I wouldn't be able to tell him that I was being kicked out, because he would be there, and see that I was not being kicked out. Yes dad, your plans are still practical to this very day.

So I got dragged across town in the search of Havenden Hotel. Along the way, he was silent apart from when he said he knew where the hotel was. I couldn't think of anything to ask him, and the churning at the bottom of my stomach when I looked at his face, didn't help much either. I looked around, seeing piles upon piles of flowers in loads of different colours and shapes in flower beds by the path. As we went through the town centre, there were even more, hanging from baskets on lampposts and in plant pots that were the size of huge boxes.

"Your town sure has a lot of flowers, it's really nice." I told him cheerfully.

He grunted, pulling a face then stuffed his hands in his pockets as we walked. Man, did blue jeans and a grey shirt look nice on him... it really went with his hair colour.

"It's alright, but there's a load of junkies crawling around at night."

I watched as a breeze teased his hair, wondering how on earth he'd gone from a giddy kid to a grumpy teenager in one night. Maybe he was nocturnal... I sighed, looking in front of us to see a large water fountain.

"You braved the street brawlers for me then, cheers for that. Oh, and thanks for carrying me to the hospital. And thanks for everything else, too. I owe you too much to even list them all." But if I had listed them, it might have included me thanking him for being way too damn cute when he was sleeping. You get the idea.

"I couldn't just leave you there in the woods, my spidey senses were tingling and you looked like you could use a hand. 'Sides, sleeping outside would've been dangerous." He closed the conversation, striding in front me so that I only saw his back.

Even if he was a little grumpy, he was still nice, and that was good enough for me. I skipped to reach his side, pretending to be in awe as we reached the hotel that actually looked more like a bed and breakfast because it was so small.

We made our way to the front door, with my glancing at the well kept and very floral garden that matched the majority of the town, and walked inside. We were greeted by a pinched faced woman sitting behind a white desk with leaflets who was been staring into space as we walked in. She quickly sat upright, though not for professionalism.

She spoke nasally. "Are you Marco Bodt?" I nodded slowly, unsure as to why her eyes were narrowed in my direction.

"We found your key in the sitting area over there."

She nodded towards a dark blue walled area with chairs and a coffee table... I didn't remember even going to sit there... Of course I would lose the key, though. That's my thing.

"And when we went to find you in your room to invite you to dinner, the entire room was flooded."

My jaw dropped and I began rambling. "Are you serious?! Of course you are, um, look, I am so, so sorry. Uh, I'm not really sure if I can pay you back for the damage but I can try, I guess. I really hope no-one got hurt-"

"Listen," She snapped. "Since I'm _friends _with your _mum_, I _spoke_ to her, and she explained she'd be able to cover the costs. Unfortunately you won't be allowed to stay here any longer, Mr Bodt."

I lifted a shaky hand to my neck with my breathing still stuttering. "Are you sure my mum said that?"

"Yup."

"Aah. Great. Um..." The receptionist was looking at me, and I didn't know why, but it seemed meaningful. Like she was trying to-

Ooh no. She knew, as in, she knew the plan. On the bright side, at least my mum can cover for me when dad's plan goes haywire. A mother always knows.

I was given my bag that had been "salvaged from the flood" and threw it over my shoulder as I stumbled behind Jean.

"I can't go home." I said, speaking as though I had just realized that the science teacher had been wrong all along about the theory of probability, and that the sunrise wasn't going to appear tomorrow. "My dad's away on business and my mum's on holiday. I don't have the spare key.

Jean rolled his honey eyes at my drama, though he seemed to pity me and my helplessness since he took out his phone, presumably to call his mum.

At least, he'd been about to phone his mum, but then he saw the home screen.

"You're a little shit, you know that?" he shook his head in mock annoyance upon seeing my dorky face plastered over the screen.

"Thank you. Actually, you should be grateful that you can admire me all day on your phone."

"Yeah."

He lifted the phone to his ear; walking so that we headed back to his house. At least, I think we were headed there. I was seriously relying on this boy for my way back. If he hadn't come, and the high pitched receptionist hadn't known the plan, I would've been screwed in trying to get a bus back to Jinae. Thank goodness for mothers.

I may have collapsed on the way back. My bag was not a good cushion, although it did break my fall, according to Jean, as he had to yet again drag my sorry ass back to his home. I woke up on the living room couch this time and Jean's mum (I still didn't know her name; let's call her Jenny, the girl version of Jean.) hovered above me with what should've been a concerned expression, but was instead mildly irritated. Thanks, Jenny. Nice to see you care.

"You've found the most accident prone kid in the town, Jean. I fear for his life." You know what Jenny? I did too, I really did.

Because as it turns out: when I woke up, I remembered just how badly I could get lost and end up in dangerous places, such as the woods, all thanks to Jean and his direction giving.


	5. Chapter 5

I wanted to know what made Jean "tick".

For example, why was he bitter about love after his parents broke up?

Was he really nocturnal?

Or did he just naturally act nicer at night time, than during the day?

He did mention that there were drug dealers and junkies at night…

_Um… _

I really hoped I knew what I was getting into with this whole thing.

Oh yeah. I remembered everything now. How convenient of me.

Jean's mum, who I called Jenny, rolled her eyes at me when I had woken up on the couch, and told Jean that he had picked up the most accident prone person in Trost. I'm not sure how he responded, but it better have been nicely, because I was a poor, sick guest in his house. An uninvited guest, technically, but still.

Because the couch hadn't been the most comfortable place, I was moved to Jean's bed, where I promptly passed out again, still wearing his clothes. Though this time, not from head injuries or a random collapsing, thankfully. When I woke up again, Jean was sitting beside me on the bed, with his back against the headrest and a steaming plate of chips on his lap. When my eyesight focused properly, I saw that he had a book in his other hand.

That poor book would be covered in grease by the time he finished with it. That poor, poor book. I was mourning its loss already.

And how on _earth_ did he have such a good complexion if he ate chips like _that_?

I slipped one hand from under the blankets, discreetly reaching for his chips. He swatted my hand away, being careful to balance the plate so that nothing fell off it. Because God forbid what a burden it'd be if the chips fell off his plate and on the covers.

I had the urge to move his swatting fingers so that they were stroking my hair. But with those greasy fingers? Common sense told me no, on many levels.

"You're not going to give me one?" I pouted up at him as he continued to read his book with a scowl, and ignored me. "I haven't eaten since this morning; do me one thing, will ya?"

He looked down at me then, raising his eyebrow gloatingly. "You really want one?"

"Please." I moaned.

He threw it at my forehead, and I managed to catch it before it fell onto the covers. When I ate it, something was off about the chip.

"You poisoned this one. I can't believe you." I eyed the chip accusingly, then stole one off his plate and put it in my mouth as he protested, attempting to steal it back.

I gagged again at the flavour, putting the two uneaten chips on the side of his plate. "Oh my god, how are you eating these? They all taste weird. Although, if your mum made these, then they're perfectly… nice…"

I wasn't very good at lying, I can say that much.

With a loud, irritated sigh, Jean tossed his book onto the white bedside cabinet, and wiped his free hand on his jeans. He looked me directly in the eye with his honey eyes.

"They're covered in sugar, that's probably why you don't like them. Dumbass."

"In sugar…? That's, that's d-disgusting! And don't call me a dumbass, how was I supposed to know it'd have sugar on it?"

"Then don't take my food." he put the plate on the cabinet as well, well out of my reach.

I continued to persist. "I haven't had anything to eat all day!" That was a perfectly valid reason.

"Sleeping people don't eat. It's not my fault you were being lazy." That was not a valid reason, Jean.

I groaned at his stubbornness and face planted into the pillow while my stomach growled loudly as if to say 'YO JEAN I'M PRETTY DARN HUNGARY, YEAH?' At least, I hoped that that was the message Jean got from it. I waited, seeing if he'd get me something to eat.

Nothing.

I was very tempted to stick my tongue out at him. I lacked a resource of good comebacks and the motivation to say rude words or pull rude gestures. I was raised a good little boy, you know.

Then I had found the internet, ha.

It turns out that sex education doesn't teach you the _half _of it.

I snuggled my face into his pillow and my breathing hitched. I realized with a jolt that the whole bed smelled like Jean. More than it did of me, obviously. I'd only spent a night or so in there. It was so difficult to describe his smell, especially when it was over staged by the chips, but if I had to… I'd say it smelt of wheat, you know, like cereal bars?

I'm not actually sure… either, but at least he didn't smell like fart or onion soup, like a lot of other boys our age did. I liked his smell almost solely for that reason alone.

I was close to sleeping again, surrounded by the smell of wheat but then I remembered a)I was starving and b)I _REMEMBERED_, for once in my life.

I called out to him groggily, my voice muffled by the pillow. "Hey, Jean."

He hummed in reply from where he sat against the headboard. Were his eyes closed?

"So… I remember the more recent years of my life now, and that's useful."

"Uh huh."

"Aaand…"

I trailed off, unsure if I should tell him or not, about the soul mate business. When would he be ready? Probably not now. But… I had no idea when he'd be ready to hear it.

"Aaand'?" he mocked me, in question.

I couldn't call him HPD anymore. How sad, I liked that name. I mean, it was pretty darn embarrassing, but he didn't have to know about it.

"And, I recalled that I am also… psychic, as you put it?" I sank further into the pillow.

"…What?" He asked in wary surprise.

He poked my back and although it was a sharp, painful jab it sent shivers down my spine. I didn't realize I was a masochist, oh wow.

"Marco, dude, what did you say? You said you were psychic?"

"That I did."

"Really?" The bed creaked as he leaned over to look at me. "I don't think I believe you."

And that was how I found myself lost in the middle of the supermarket, not even thirty minutes later.

I roamed around the aisles, walking down the middle path where the aisles parted; my go to method of finding my parents whenever I lost them. "When." Yes, it happened often.

"Jean," I whined to myself and it echoed in the near empty shop. "Where'd you goooo?!"

Did you know that Jean is like the Cheshire cat? Not the Tim Burton version of it, of course, that thing's just plain creepy. Jean and the Cheshire cat both have almond shaped eyes that seem to glow in the dark, although they're different colours, and they are both TERRIBLE at giving directions.

Lo and behold: the voice, his voice, was back in my head as soon as he was more than five minutes away from me within the shop.

"You know, if you're lost, you could navigate your way through the stars. You will fiiind me, you will reeeeach me, if you follow my star~"

'GUESS WHAT JEAN I'M IN A SUPERMARKET.

THE ONLY STARS I CAN SEE ARE THE GLOW STARS.

SO STOP QUOTING THE CHEEKY GIRLS TO ME.

(Even if it is cheesily romantic and making me go red so that the few people in the shop start staring at me as I wander around aimlessly and whisper to myself.)'

Wait, did he mean to go the glow stars at the end of the children's toy aisle?

Finally, some progress in my understanding of this boy!

I had a skip in my step as I reached the end of the toy aisle.

Jean was nowhere to be seen. I looked down the children's toy aisle, then the one next to it that was full of stationary.

"Take a left at the toilets, then go upstairs." his boyish voice told me, and I knew he was totally ridiculing me in the most obnoxious way possible.

I sobbed as I looked upwards, aiming my frustration at the devil called Jean. "I don't even know where the toilets are, and why are you upstairs? Where are the stairs?!"

Eventually, I managed to find the front area, where the customer service desk was.

"Can a male named Jean please come to the front desk? Jean, please come to the front desk, thank you."

I thanked the man behind the counter, and hid my face from the other customers that were looking at me strangely. I was suffering the second hand embarrassment of calling someone out on the P.A system. My parents had to do it for me all the time. I now knew their pain. Then again. This time it was HIS fault for running away.

He bounced up to the desk, waving and grinning at me, while I did my best to scowl at him.

"Found you! Again."

"You know, I couldn't find you because you kept running away. One minute I was at the children's aisle, the next you were saying 'hey go upstairs!' without even telling me how to get upstairs." I complained to him as we walked out into the warm night.

His eyes widened, lighting up as though his eyes were the stars he'd told me to find-

Now that's just cheesy.

But in all honesty he really did look happy, if you took away the fact he also looked as though he was going to cry. I was going to cry too if he did.

_To think I'd once thought he was a pervert leering over my shoulder._

He nodded, sporting a half smile that he seemed to be trying to suppress. He breathed out a quiet laugh.

"You know, I thought I was crazy for a while, even after my mum told me I was just psychic. I wonder why it's only us, huh?"

"Oh, I don't know about us being psychic, Jean, can you read my mind?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

He gazed back at me, seemingly regarding me seriously with honey coloured eyes and a mind full of musings.

"I don't think so, but I can tell what you're feeling? I think I can feel it, too? Because at one point I got all panicky inside the shop for no reason, then annoyed, and it didn't make sense to me until I got called to the front desk. And you weren't looking very happy." he teased me.

I tilted my head. Oh. Okay then. Dad's theory about sensing my pain must've been right then. Did that mean we actually were slightly psychic? But I hadn't felt his emotions like he said he had for me…

"What did I say to you in your head?" I asked him curiously. Surely, surely I wouldn't sound as dumb as him, right? Please, let that be true.

He frowned at me, confusion playing over his features as though he was offended.

"You mean you're not actually telling me things telepathically?"

"Weren't you telling me things? We must not do it consciously, I guess."

He looked away, reaching up to rub his neck and shrugged. "I guess not."

I chuckled to myself and he glanced at me questionably as we walked back to his house, earlier than we had the previous night.

"I was just thinking… You say the most ridiculous things, and give me the most obscure directions. It's no wonder I couldn't find you!"

I didn't mention I'd been trying to find him too, the first time around. How was I supposed to? 'Hey, I got sent to Trost so I could find my soul mate because apparently there's a myth that connects us together via a GPS system in our minds! You're the lucky dude who's my soul mate! I sure hope you know that you're gay!'

That… That wouldn't go down well, I could tell.

We still needed to have the "So what are you into? Are you a 'bros before hoes' kind of guy?" talk. (In case you're wondering, that's exactly how my dad asked the question when I came out to my parents. There are times when I really do love that man. Seriously)

Jean scuffed the dirt on the path with his foot, biting his lip. Did he always bite his lip when he thought too much? After a while of walking in companionable silence, he spoke up again.

"Why's it only you that I get led to? Like, why's it only your voice I ever hear in my head? There's got to be a real reason, right?"

Because… We were soul mates? You know, there was the whole "destined to be together" ordeal we had going on?

"I have no idea whatsoever. Maybe it's because we were the only ones that were psychic at the same time? And place?"

Yeah… I was so totally "psychic" for Jean…

We made it home, and for the first time I was not unconscious or extremely hyper, much to Jenny's relief.

"What's your name, Miss?" Was the first thing I asked when I saw "Jenny" when Jean and I walked into the house.

"You're only asking me that now? What were you calling me before?"

"Um, I just referred to you as 'Jean's mum'."

I didn't think she'd be happy about me calling her Jenny. She and Jean had quite… equestrian features, so to speak…

"Well that's a bit of a mouthful isn't it?" Jean walked past us to go upstairs. "Just call me Lynne."

That was the second time I'd never been more satisfied to learn someone's name.

I followed Jean upstairs to his room, only just managing to tail him quickly enough so that I wouldn't lose my way again. The light settings were on low and there was a soft glow to Jean's room. I closed the door behind me.

Talk about a one sided feeling of sexual tension. Jesus.

Jean looked up from the bed that he had just jumped onto like a little kid. That confirmed it; he was nocturnal. Even if he did sleep through the night. Here was to hoping I could too. I went to sit beside him on the bed while he went back to his book and I sat there like an idiot, not doing anything.

I looked around his room, taking in the small bookshelf at the end of his bed, the wardrobe against the wall, the window with the curtains still open. For lack of better things to do, I walked over the window and shut the curtains, noting that outside was still quite light with the summer sun still hovering above the horizon.

"So uh, have you done anything good over the summer?" I asked him, making my way back to his bed.

"Summer homework, although I don't think that counts as good. I volunteered at a charity shop for like, a week, and then got kicked out because I "sassed one of the workers". They were old fogies, the whole lot of them. I don't think that counts either. Other than that, I've done absolutely nothing. And I like doing nothing, so that counts as good. Wish I had more time to do nothing. Then again, there are still a couple of weeks left to go. That's lots of time to do even more of nothing, right?"

I smiled at him, crossing my legs over as I watched him reading and talk. "A couple of weeks do seem like a lot of time, yeah."

"Okay." he gave up on his book, tossing it onto the now cluttered cabinet. "So how are we doing bed arrangements?"

Of course last night had been a fluke. Of course. Last night I was poorly. He had been nice to his poor, sick guest.

"I could go on the couch?" I volunteered. "If you're uncomfortable with me being in your bed that is…"

My shoulders sagged a little at the thought of being away from Jean and his cereal bar smell for a whole night, after having waited years to find him. I guess even soul mates had to keep a certain pace, huh… No "love at first sight" for us, then? How did that even work? In the movies when it was love at first sight, the couple practically got married straight away, or the guy went off to save the girl from a dragon, depending on the kind of film. Usually Disney did that sort of stuff, right?

"Don't cry about it, jeez, take the bed if you want." he made his way to walk out the room. I grabbed his wrist, feeling my face burn ashamedly.

"There's also the option of sleeping in the same bed, though, right? It's big enough… And it'd be just like a sleepover." I gulped, hoping he wouldn't hear it as I looked down at the bed, pretending to assess it.

Jean narrowed his eyes at me, nodding down at me with a flushed face. "You just keep telling yourself that."

When he left the room, I looked down, and sure enough; my trousers were _much_ tighter than they should've been. Noticeably so. I toppled onto the blankets and gave a small, manly yell into them. It didn't help. At all. Then the door swung open and Jean hurriedly came back in, shoving me off his bed.

"On second thought, get downstairs, you horny little bastard. I'm not having you cum in my bed. Get out. Go on, get."

I rose from the pillow, batting away his hands. "I'm _sorry_! It's not like I can help it! I happen to be a _man_ as well, y'know! Things like this happen…" My voice broke. "Even to good people like me…"

_Especially_ to good people like me.

We ended up sharing the bed, much to both our displeasure, because Lynne didn't want me on the couch or the floor, and they didn't have a guest room.

She knew. She knew, and she was using it against me.

He made me go to the bathroom so he could get changed. He had seen through my innocent guy act; I can't tell if I was flattered or shocked that I could no longer use this against him.

"Keep your dick away from me." Jean mumbled before he fell asleep, scooting as far away as he could.

I scoffed at him as we lay in the dark. "Learn from your own advice. I'm being infected with all your dick-ish personality, Jean." I sighed dramatically, flopping into the pillow.

"I think that's the only word I've heard you use that is barely considered a swear word."

"What? You mean the word Jean? It's blasphemy, I know, please forgive me, Father." I clasped my hands together in mock prayer and stared up at the ceiling.

And that was when I realized that, thanks to me and our shared mental connection that he felt more than I did; he had probably been horny too.

If we were really connected mentally, I honestly couldn't wait to rile him up further.


	6. Chapter 6

My name is Marco Bodt, I'm sixteen years old and I am a self declared "innocent guy".

I was stripped of that title by Jean Kirstein.

Also known as, by me; Hot Psychic Dude.

I was in a house two hours away from my home in Jinae, and I had been beaten to the chase in my conquest to rile up Jean (read: make him horny again).

When I woke up to the dawn chorus, it took me a second to realize that that was not the only morning song I could hear.

Lying beside Jean, my chest was heaving from the heat of two bodies in a double bed. My legs were pinned down by his leg, and he was shivering as he whimpered musically, right by my ear so that I could feel every exhale against my skin.

Libido is a thing, and it is a terrible, terrible thing when you are a sixteen year old that is sleeping right next to his crush.

I groaned quietly, trying to move so that I could stop feeling so horny. My hips twitched as he pinned me down further, rubbing himself against my thigh. It had all been my fault. I'd ended up having a wet dream, only to wake up to have Jean experience one too, thanks to our mental connection.

Well, I'd managed to rile him up… but it had seemingly backfired.

I was going to have to wait until he came to (hopefully not the white, sticky kind of "come to") or you know…

I could return the gyrating with some of my own…

That was how I lost my innocent mindset. But my body had other ideas, sadly for my unattended dick.

I reached an arm out to touch his face and he shuddered under the touch, making me bite my lip when I realized that his erotic face was certainly… erotic… His lips were red and parted from panting, his scowl was smoothed out his usual scowl into a pained looking expression of flushed pleasure. And when he whined a high pitched wail, I had to squeeze my thighs together to restrain myself. God did he sound good, so good.

Why did I reach out to touch his face? So I could pinch his nose.

My parents loved that method of being woken up; on Christmas day, my birthday, that one time when I had to drag my dad out at three am to get the new game from the store…

Eventually, Jean frowned in his sleep, tried swatting my hand away like it was a fly, then eventually snorted and was startled awake.

His eyes flew open when I said, "Yeah Jean, you're amazing at using your own advice… "Keep your dick away from me" as you said last night. That's what you said. And yet here we are…"

Jean yelped, or shrieked, rather. He tore himself from me, his bare leg (he was only wearing boxers, because of the heat, he'd told me the previous night.) peeled from mine like an easy peel sticker, and he stole the blankets to hide himself in a sleepy/bashfully-horny Jean burrito. I was left in the cold of the bedroom. It helped my… situation down there, thankfully.

"I-I'm so, so, so, sorry. Marco, I didn't-"

"Eh, we're men, it happens, yeah? Even to the best of us."

A muffled groan came from the hoard of blankets. "Especially to the worst of us, ya mean."

I let out a breathy chuckle, concentrating on the ceiling and not the adorable ball beside me, still feeling my body twitch. "You're not the worst, just a little bit bad. 'Sides, I think it's my fault. I ended up-"

Yeah… Probably not the best idea to tell him "So; last night I dreamt I rode your dick after sucking it and considered using your body to help me masturbate in the morning when I woke up to your lewd moaning."

"E-ended up dreaming of, uh, that kind of stuff. And we seem to share an emotions thing, so, that's why you got the worst of it. I'm guessing. Though you more than me, dunno why though. Maybe something different happens for me? Huh. Wonder-"

"Early bird, shut up."

Ah. Not a morning person.

"… Just be glad the early bird didn't try to get the worm." That made him laugh. And so; the awkwardness was lifted.

A few hours later after avoiding each other's lingering gazes, we were told by Lynne (I remembered her name!) to do the weeding outside.

And by lingering gazes, I mean I ogled him whenever he wasn't looking, and he kept eyeing up my ass when he thought I wouldn't see him do so. At least, I think he was. It could've been just me and my over active imagination.

Jean had a nice front garden. It was pretty simple layout, with a large rectangle of grass on each side of the path with a border of flowers, and a couple of shrubs in the middle of the grass.

In the corner of the garden, a few paces along from the front gate, there was a blossom tree void of flowers tucked away, protected from the outside world by a waist high fence made from the tree's family members. I bet it looked nice in spring; summer didn't do blossom trees much justice apart from the red, sour cherries.

As we walked outside, Jean handed me a thick glove, actively trying not to look at my face. I had thought my awesome early bird and the worm joke had made everything better between us, but nooo.

Jean just had to be awkward…because I was awkward… and I still couldn't get his hot mess of a face from that morning out my mind.

Wearing my own clothes, I knelt onto the grass in my shorts and set to pick out the mini weeds between the sweet pea's in front of me. The birds chirped in the tree, filling in the silence for us, since I couldn't think of anything witty to say to make Jean laugh again, and Jean was nocturnal, so he probably couldn't tell jokes during the day.

Eventually, I got tired of my weeding, sat down properly and turned to look around, relishing the warm summer sun and blue skies above us. Jean was a few feet away from me, frowning at his patch of weeds in the soil, narrowing his eyes as though the weeds were going to jump out and eat his face off. I sighed, feeling the threads of grass brush under my fingers on my gloveless hand.

I was staring at the whorls in the fence, lost in thought, when Jean cleared his throat so I would look at him.

"You just gonna sit on your ass and do nothing?"

I rolled my eyes. "I finished, thanks for congratulating your guest on his efforts." He opened his mouth to retort, then saw that I actually was done and grimaced in annoyance.

"Can we go do something else now? I'm sure your mum won't mind us going around town, right?" I asked him with big puppy dog eyes.

He huffed, putting his hands on his hips to show he wasn't falling for my act. "Yeah, yeah. You know what I can feel from you now? It's a feeling called 'He'll fall for my purity and then he'll buy me a drink'."

"Will you?"

His shoulders drooped and he sighed. "Only because I want one too, and because it's buy one get one free at Corporal's Café. Don't go about thinking you're going to get this treatment from me all the time, or anything like that."

"I'm pretty sure I deserve a drink, since you were the one that made me thirsty this morning."

Shameless flirting is my speciality. Can you tell? I think it's slightly obvious.

Jean ended up leading me into a café that looked like a mix between a vintage study room and a bakery. The shelves were a sandy colour, much like Jean's hair and his cereal bar smell was drowned out by the aroma of freshly baked bread.

If this were a cartoon, I would've found myself floating, following a trail of the smell as I gravitated towards the source. There were bookshelves beside me as I walked through the door, showcasing bottles of syrup, sauces and packets of pastries.

"Huh, I didn't expect you to take me to a bread shop." I pursed my lips in interest.

"No," he pointed into the shop, directing my gaze to the tables. "You can buy stuff at the counter, like the pastries or the bread. Or, you can sit inside, outside, and order stuff like soup and sandwiches."

He motioned for us to go and sit at an ash coloured table for the two of us. "I take it we're staying inside then?"

"It's too hot outside." he grumbled, sitting opposite me, and grabbed a menu from the stand in the middle of the table, beside a flower pot with a simple daisy.

"So uh," I rubbed my neck, feeling my palm grow sticky. "Do you go here that often? I'm guessing the food is good if you're taking me here."

"Not really, only when I'm feeling poor." he sneered at the menu.

… I thought he felt what I felt? Either he was ignoring my chatty mood, or he didn't feel it.

"Why do you feel poor?"

He lowered his eyelids and deadpanned "Because everything you say is really rich coming from you."

I balked. "What-"

"Wait, no, no," his eyes widened, his hands almost reaching over to me to reassure me, like some frantically unsure dad trying to stop their kid from crying after they popped their balloon.

"I was just doing that for the joke. Yeah, that was a bad one. Uh, yeah, I was just looking for something to say, you know? Something funny. I'm crap at being funny, and you're pretty hilarious and it's hard to compete-"

He stopped suddenly, his face becoming more red as I stared at him in confusion. Jean hid his reddening face in his hands and mumbled, "I give up I give up I can't fucking talk like a normal person I'm sorry."

I tilted my head, a small smile beginning to form. "I thought you were just being grumpy."

He moved his hands away. "No, you're right about that, but I just wasn't saying much yesterday, or today, because I didn't know what to say, please, don't think I'm a bad person."

I laughed, making people turn to look at us, but I didn't really care. "You're not a bad person! Why would you think that? It's okay to be a little shy in front of a stranger." I grinned at him.

He dropped his hands onto the table, slouching back into the seat as he relaxed his expression into something so fond, it had my heart skipping like schoolgirl with a jump rope.

"Your happiness is contagious, even without the psychic stuff. I'm glad."

Just then, a waitress came and Jean's gaze flickered to her. "Oh, hey, Sasha."


	7. Chapter 7

This is the longest chapter i've written for this, wow. Sorry for the delay again! Time just flew. Enjoy!~

* * *

Sasha. Sasha Braus. How on earth do I explain this girl?

The waitress Jean said 'hi' to, suddenly shoved her face into mine, leaving us only a few centimeters apart and the invasion of personal space had me dropping my menu with a clatter onto the table. She then growled; teeth bared and brown eyebrows burrowed, and a chocolate coloured ponytail flicked in my face like an attack of feathers as she hollered "MR. SPRINGER!"

She spun back round to face me, hair whipping me in the face yet again, still glaring at me for some reason. Then, with one hand on her hip, she stuck a hand down the front pocket of her apron and pulled out a steaming hot potato.

Now, I'd understand if she pulled out a... loaf of bread or something, considering this place was a bread shop.

But a potato?

"This is Sasha Braus. She's a crazy childhood friend of mine that taught me how to hunt and survive out in the wild like Bear Grylls, but without the camera crew. I'm obviously better looking than him as a result." Jean slouched in the wooden chair, crossing his arms over his t-shirt. He smirked upon seeing my confused expression. She had a stash of potatoes in her apron?!

"I THINK YOU MEAN MR. SPRINGER-BRAUS, GOOD SIR." A short guy with a buzzcut, in a black apron and white polo shirt like Sasha, swaggered up to our table with a huge grin. He had a pink coloured plaster on his chin that he scratched after he kissed Sasha on the cheek.

Jean nodded at him. "Hey to you too, Connie."

"You're the first person Jean's brought with him here. Explain yourself!" Sasha slammed her hands on the table, making some of the other customers look at us.

I chuckled nervously, reaching to my neck to rub it like I usually did when I got nervous. "Um, I'm Marco. Nice to meet you!" That's right Marco, just say your name, and remember your manners and all will be well…

"NO! None of that small talk! We need answers!" Sasha leaned forward, and Connie put an arm on her shoulder, making me think he would pull her back, but instead he joined her in her interrogation.

"You already have Jean under your spell; please teach us your ways, master." Connie blue eyes widened excitedly as he bit his lip with two large front teeth.

Under my spell? The only spell of mine I could think of was my spell of amnesia…

I glanced at Jean warily, but he didn't seem to care in the least. "Connie is Sasha's boyfriend. Although, they act so much alike and are together so often that I have this theory that they were actually once literally joined at the hip." he said, finishing with a yawn. HE was yawning? I was the one that had woken up first!

But… what a decent awakening it had been. Like, I didn't really enjoy my lack of freedom, but still. Who doesn't want a hot guy with blonde hair with a leg draped over them, one that's good at seducing their roommate at six in the morning…?

I did. I think I'd just pretend to sleep next time and do it to him. See how he likes it.

Since Jean wasn't going to save me, I had to come up with some reason, some way of saving myself... How would I explain, "hey so I stumbled into the woods looking for him even though I didn't know I was looking for him in particular and ended up finding him by a one in a seven billion chances? Oh, and not forgetting that he dragged me to the hospital after I passed out."

What a beautiful first meeting. I wouldn't have it any other way. Although, one moment of consciousness when he had been carrying me might've been good…

I'd settle for the next best thing, as revenge for this morning (even though he was hardly responsible for my suppressed desires. Still, he had ACTED on them, so I was still the better man.)

"He brought me here because he said there were people here that he wanted to invite to the wedding." I smiled up at them cheekily. "I can't believe he never mentioned me before!"

Jean just looked at me with his eyebrows twitching in confusion. "...Eh?"

"Yeah, it's in four months. I wanted a winter wedding, ain't that right Jean-Bo?" I put my elbow in the table, leaning my face into my hand as I peered up at him from beneath my eyelashes.

Mothers have the most creative names for their children. Credit goes to Lynne Kirstein and her habit of being extra mumsy.

Oh but a winter wedding, with snowy grounds and ice sculptures, both of us laughing as we sneezed through our vows…

Jean, I really want a winter wedding, please please please!

Sasha perked up, pounding a fist over her heart in a salute. "I volunteer as tribute to be the best man!"

Connie straightened his back up, and then fell into a swift curtsy, using the apron as a skirt. "I'd be honored to be the flower girl."

I grinned lopsidedly, leaning back in my chair and laughing internally at their easy going nature as they played along with the joke. "Consider yourself hired."

Sasha rubbed her chest, mumbling about how she'd hit herself too hard and Connie scratched his plaster, telling her she was an idiot. Jean buried his head in his hands, groaning in dismay.

"I can't fucking bring you anywhere, can I?" he groaned at me.

"Nah, you don't really bring me anywhere, I just follow you around like a lovesick puppy."

"Ay, Sasha, go get us some drinks? The buy one get one free drinks? It's boiling out there." he moved one hand away from his face, covering his view of me.

I watched as Sasha trotted away, after giving the Marines' salute, and noticed a tattoo on her inner forearm of a golden compass. Huh, she didn't seem like the type to get a tattoo. I looked back at the table, where Jean and Connie were talking.

"Dude, did you get into a fight?" Jean tapped at his chin, in the same place as Connie's tattoo, with a sympathetic wince.

Connie's smile faltered as he cringed. "Uh... No, it's just hiding a really bad zit."

I think Connie was one of those people that others liked because he was honest. Embarrassingly so. Still, at least he had guts. Not a lot of guys can own up to having skin problems.

"How'd you know Jean, Connie?" I clasped my hands together, leaning my chin on my knuckles.

The buzz-cut boy shook his head nostalgically, leaning onto the table with stretched out arms. "Through Sasha. Boy, was the day we met a field trip." he glanced at Jean, smiling toothily.

"At first I thought, wow, that guy really has a stick up his ass. I may have accidentally said that out loud. Aaand, he may have said that although he wouldn't mind that, I wasn't really his type."

He was implying Jean was gay. That was the first I'd heard of this.

I liked this fact.

Plus, he went about it so brilliantly. He wanted a stick up his ass, ha, I volunteer as tribute! (I didn't just think that. Dear god. Blame Sasha)

With a showy jump, Connie held out his arms, as though he was presenting me to a crowd. "And then there's you, with your plans of marriage! I didn't know the two toned idiot dug freckles and muscles." he rolled his eyes and threw up his arms in an "I give up" gesture. "Because clearly, I am lacking in both areas."

I flushed, feeling the heat crawl up my neck as I coughed lightly. "He likes early risers too."

I... may have been pushing my jokes a little too far, because Connie raised his eyes in surprise. "Wait, were you being serious about the marriage-"

"No, Marco's just being a weirdo." Jean scowled at me. Yeah, maybe I should just stop talking now.

Just then, something clicked. I cocked my head at Connie, who had his arms by his sides, and I thought for sure I'd seen something on his arms.

"Did you and Sasha get matching tattoos?"

Connie's eyes widened, meeting my own as he raced to hide it, but not before I noticed that the dial on his compass tattoo... moved? I think it... moved towards the direction behind him.

Sasha appeared with the drinks, and a stern shout called from the till at the front of the shop. "Connie! Stop talking to Jean! I'm paying you by the hour and the dishes still haven't been done."

Connie squeaked that he was coming, placed a peck on Sasha's cheek as he left us, and Sasha placed the drinks on the table with a small smile, tucking her tray under her arm. Jean dove in, grabbing his drink and sucking greedily on the straw of what seemed to be a tall glass of pink lemonade.

"You never told me you guys had the same tattoo." he said between slurps.

Sasha rolled her eyes, shaking her head in annoyance. "To think I've known you all these years, and you still can't find things out by yourself. Aren't friends supposed to learn things about each other without having to tell them anything?"

She held out her arm. "I mean, it's obviously there in plain view, it has been for years, and Marco picked up on it as soon as he saw it."

"Ah, I just happen to be observant!" I forced a smile at her, worried she might start a fight with Jean. "But still, why did you get a tattoo?"

With a coy grin she leaned down at the table so that she was almost kneeling beside me at the table.

"Well, it's supposed to show how happy I am that I found him."

She was implying they were soul mates?! But, I thought, with me and Jean, the GPS system… There are other ways? That's so cool!

"Oh really?! Us too! I'm so happy for you guys!" I beamed at her, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes bulged slightly. "Wait, you guys, you found each other with the-"

"Psychic connection. That's right. Although, this guy kept getting lost, so it took me for-fucking-ever to find him. And when I did, he was in the middle of the forest at two in the morning with a huge lump gouged out his head."

"Hey, it wasn't that bad, I mean, I wouldn't be here if I had half my head missing."

"Marco," he growled my name. ... I may have liked the way he said it, and it reminded me of the huskiness of his morning voice. "You forgot yourself for, like, a whole day, and you passed out in the middle of the street. I had to stop some woman from calling the police because she thought I hit you!"

"Oh my god this is amazing. My baby has found THE someone! Hey, …what do you mean forgot? Did Marco get amnesia? I know that can happen after you hit your head really hard, though isn't that only in movies?"

I nodded, raising my eyebrows as I blew out a long breath. "I still have it, as far as I'm aware, always have done. But somehow I hurt my head and that must've made it worse, temporarily. As for the movies-"

"BRAUS!" Sasha flinched and looked over her shoulder fearfully.

"Aah man. As much as I'd love to talk with ya and your hubby to be, I very much value my life. As endangered as it may be right now... See you around!" She skipped away to the till. "Oh, and don't forget to pay this time Jean! I'm not going to bail you out this time."

I sank into my chair from sheer exhaustion, surprised to see Jean doing the exact same, blowing raspberries like an impatient horse from tiredness. Yeah, I still feel bad for calling Lynne 'Jenny', seeing as it basically means horse. But, I guess they do kinda look like horses.

"Geez, and I thought I talked a lot." I sagged further into my chair.

"You do, and now you know my pain."

I kicked him under the table, trying to hide my smile beneath a glower. "Shush, you. Oh, and what was that about forgetting to pay your drink?"

"... That, that was that one time where I chanced it and just walked out the door since they were so busy at the till." he smiled smugly to himself.

I gasped in mock horror, covering my 'o' shaped mouth with a hand. "You're, you're a-"

"Go on. Just say it. You know what I am."

"A juvenile delinquent."

The time we spent at the cafe was worthwhile. It took him a lot of coaxing and a day or so to master, but I'd finally gotten Jean to talk.

He just didn't know what to say? Wow, and I thought being socially awkward was supposed to be well, awkward, not cute and make a person so adorably flustered.

Even though it might not have been about him, Jean had stories, particularly about Sasha and Connie getting into trouble all the time. He told me their parents and his mum was friends and had been ever since she moved to the town.

Were they the people Lynne had spoken about, the ones she said had explained to her about the soul-mate thing? I had to talk to them, they had to know more than I did about this, at least.

He did mention a couple of things about himself, like how he actually liked Connie's little sisters, even though he pretended not to. He couldn't help himself from adoring them when they latched onto his arm when he sat on the couch, and used his legs as a slide.

But he didn't want kids. "Jesus, no," he'd said. "I would be a terrible dad. I'd spoil them way too much."

"You'd be the fun parent. Everyone loves the fun parent."

He sighed inwardly, hissing through his teeth. "Not when they can't take responsibility." He may think he lacked responsibility, but this time he paid for his drink so it couldn't be too bad.

Right now though, Jean was sitting with me on his bed, trying to play travel scrabble.

"Marco, "rewards" isn't spelled with a 'z'."

I gave a haughty laugh. "It is when your phone is with the Vodafone network and you get Freebee Rewardz. So yes, it's spelled with a 'z'."

The sun was setting outside his window, so even Jean's exasperated face looked softer. Lynne was away at work, at a bar, apparently. Now normally I'd be a little overwhelmed about the possibilities of a burglary, or in this case the certain kinds of possible things that could happen with two, hormonal, teenage boys in a house, alone...

But I don't think the atmosphere worked when only one of us was thinking about it, and we were both... being domestic and playing scrabble. And rewards -rewardz- was totally spelled with a z.

He let out a long sigh, apparently giving up with the game as he tipped the contents of the game into the mini purple bag. I pouted at him.

"No need to be such a sore loser, Jean." my bottom lip trembled for dramatic effect.

He threw the bag and the game board onto the floor with a quiet thud. "Yeah, well, I got bored." Why thank you. I find your company during games fun too, Jean.

We sat on his bed, a little awkwardly, I might add, since both of us were tired...

But after that morning? Maybe sleeping together might not be such a good idea.

Hey, I might have been the cause of the whole fiasco but I wasn't the one violently gyrating against someone's leg!

Jean slipped under the covers fully clothed, kicking my ass from beneath as I still sat on the edge. I joined him under the covers and he got out his ipod, giving me one earphone.

"Tonight's entertainment: Marco's reactions to my music taste." he whispered in an Australian accent. I think he was trying to compete with my English accent from yesterday morning.

The music was certainly interesting...

"All I hear is noise, I don't get it."

Jean laughed in my face, accidentally pulling out an earphone that I felt little reluctant to put back into my lobe. "It sounds like everything, and yet... it's nothing."

"You mean it's crap?"

I hesitated too long. He laughed. "It's okay. It's called Seapunk music. I don't even like it. I just downloaded it for shits and giggles." he pressed the skip button. "Ah, now this is something I actually like, so you better not make fun of me." I put the earphone back in obediently.

Paramore came on, a band I'd heard of but had never really listened to. It seemed to be rock, but with a girl singing... it worked, I'm not sure how, but it worked. Jean had a couple of albums by them, so he said.

It wasn't really the sort of stuff you'd listen to at a party, more like the sort of thing you listen to by yourself because you want to feel music, rather than have something to dance to, although the guitars had a good rhythm to them. Maybe... a mosh pit would be a better place for it? Or is that too metal?

I like things like Michael Jackson; don't trust my judgment on this.

A slower song came on after a few minutes of the two of us lying in the bed. Jean shuffled, so that he was facing me. His face relaxed when the song started as though it had been just what he needed after a long, hard day, even though he was still pretty bummed about it all. He breathed a puff of air on me. It's surprising how different things feel when it comes to a different situation. Just.. Air. It didn't really make me shiver or get all hot when I felt it on my neck.

"You know," I blocked out the music to listen to him as he spoke. "Sasha and Connie... I think they might break up."

My body stiffened and I frowned at him. "Why?"

He paused, looking pained as he creased his eyebrows and looked behind me, trying to avoid my gaze. "Well, the thing is, is that they're both... Ace. D'you know what that means?"

I nodded, surprised at the news since.. well, they were both really affectionate with each other, kissing and all.

"But... it's in a different way from each other, since Connie's asexual and Sasha's aromantic. They both go to me, telling me that they're worried that they can't make each other happy. Sasha's worried that Connie thinks she just wants him for sex, and Connie doesn't want Sasha to be bored of him because he doesn't ever want to do it." Jean gulped loudly, making the adam's apple in his throat bob.

"I'm... a little sick of being their love councillor or whatever. I still want them to be happy, so I'll help them, but I'm just one step away from telling them that they're better off just splitting up. I did, once, but then Sasha went away on holiday when they'd agreed to go on a break, and Connie started having seizures -he hadn't had them since he met Sasha- and it wasn't until she came back, running to his hospital bed at one in the morning that they stopped."

He shook his head frustration beginning to seep into his confusion. "It's like they're platonicly dating, for the sake of Connie being safe."

His breathing hitched, ever so slightly, and I wouldn't have noticed if our faces hadn't been so close.

"Why are they pretending? They shouldn't tell each other they love each other if they don't. So yeah, that's why I reckon they'll break up." He finished almost casually, but the words stuck in his throat.

_Maybe I know somewhere, deep in my soul that love never lasts_.

Pretending? The thought hadn't even occurred to me. But then again... why were two ace people dating, especially when they were on opposite sides of the spectrum when it came to that sort of thing?

Sure, the soul mate thing might tie them together, but why would something made by destiny be hurting them so much?

Why were they letting it hurt them?

"I don't want to have them come crying to me again. I've seen enough tears because of shitty relationships, and they don't deserve that."

_And we've got to find other ways to make it on our own, or keep a straight face_.

"Jean..." I bit my lip, trying to think of the right words. "I'm not sure why they're dating. But I have a feeling they can learn from each other, seeing as they don't know what it's like to... want someone, in their own ways. And they can maybe explain, plus since they're so close, they might understand it a little better, even if they don't feel it. They seem really happy, too."

He shook his head, hiding his face under the covers, apparently ignoring me. "There's no point in relationships. They always end, and everyone always gets hurt. 'S'why I never bother with 'em. Too much drama. It's not like love is real, anyway. We're better off just making ourselves happy."

_And I've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance..._

"Is that to do with your parents? Did those two breaking up make you think love doesn't last?"

_And up until now I had sworn to myself that I was content with loneliness, because none of it was ever worth the risk._

His next words sounded loaded, full of things that had me thinking he was hoping I would understand the things between the lines.

"Maybe. I don't like talking about it much."

_But you are the only exception._

Lucky for him, I'm an observant person.

We fell asleep like that, fully clothed (protected from sleeping sexual predators with our mutual denim material) and with one earphone in an ear, playing music until I woke up to death metal in the middle of the night and almost threw the ipod across the room.

Almost. I almost did. But since I value my life and respected Jean's items, it only ended up on the floor. On the other side of the room. I didn't think about what I was doing when I went back to the warmth of the bed. I was drowsy, my eyes were heavy and I was not in a good mood, instinctively reaching an arm over Jean's waist as though he were my teddy (I'm not SAYING that I still have teddies... but I might do.)

I peered at his face in the darkness, the window making one side of his face glow. I moved my arm up and traced the curve of his pale cheek with my thumb. I gazed at him side on from my pillow. I couldn't believe it turned out that Jean was lot more thoughtful than I gave him credit for.

He was a little more bitter than I hoped for, but… even knowing that that was how it was helped me understand where things were with him, what I needed to do, and how to help him… Hopefully.

"There's a lot you haven't let yourself feel, Jean, things you haven't went out to do, or find out. And unless you break down the things that're stopping you from wanting to explore, and loving someone, you won't find it. But trust me, it's out there. If you look you'll find love all over the place. It could be that… it's right here, too." I blushed with my mouth lazily curving upwards, my thumb stopping slightly on his face.

"It's like when you get a dog, and suddenly you start seeing a ton of people have dogs when you go out to walk yours. I'm… pretty sure there are times where people never stop loving each other, even when they separate or when they want different things. And things like falling out of love can just… happen, I guess. Is that what happened with your parents? But, see, that's not always the case, Jean." I sighed, closing my eyes as I withdrew my hand, burying my face into the covers.

"One day, maybe it won't be any time soon, I want you to believe me when I say that."


End file.
